


let it out somehow

by burnthesocks



Series: old man and twink robot [22]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has No Genitalia, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Crying, Established Relationship, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Massage, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Sensory Overload, Wire Play, Worried Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthesocks/pseuds/burnthesocks
Summary: Connor feels broken and Hank is there to show him that being broken is okay.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: old man and twink robot [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858183
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	let it out somehow

**Author's Note:**

> lyric is from 'disorder' by joy division.

Connor had spent days just at Hank’s place- actually, 94 days, to be exact- and he had adjusted to living as Hank’s roommate. Somewhere along the line, their relationship became something more as they realized feelings for each other, and happy as Connor was with Hank, he was still scared of the outside world.

Connor knew who he was.

No matter how much he tried to run away from it, it would always end up at the forefront of his attention when he was left alone to think. He was the deviant hunter RK800, and even though he knew he was a deviant, he felt it was more than that. He was programmed against that very thing, against deviants, designed to kill them. He was a deviant, yes, but some of his programming remained, and it terrified him.

Connor felt… broken.

His first day back at work was a disaster.

He was on edge the entire time and the LED he’d chosen to keep remained red and burning, and his stress level never went below 70 for most of the day. There were multiple times where Hank had peered over across his desk at Connor, mouthed words of concern, of which Connor dismissed and continued working. Or, at least, he tried to, but he could hardly focus. He was so worried about the eyes he felt on him, didn’t know if he was really being watched or if he was freaked out for nothing.

Connor could always focus on work even after deviating, able to do any task Hank gave him, though it was a rare occurrence. So the fact that he couldn’t focus on his work at all was concerning. He would have made a reminder to run a diagnostic later on, but he could hardly think rationally; his mind was racing to the extent that he felt as though he was bound by vines, tightly constricting the lungs he didn’t have.

“Hank,” Connor croaked, his voice mechanical and almost indiscernible. He hadn’t even intended to speak and surprised himself. Hank’s head jerked toward Connor, his eyebrows shooting up and soon furrowing in concern.

“You alright, Connor?” Hank asked. It was a question he already knew the answer to. Connor could tell that much by the look in his eyes and he knew he couldn’t be dismissive any longer.

“No,” he whispered, looking around as though he’d see Amanda glaring at him from across the precinct. Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t there, nor was anyone. He shook regardless.

“Connor, damn.” Hank haphazardly stacked the couple of files he had open in front of him and stood up, walking rather hurriedly toward Fowler’s office. Connor normally would have followed, but when he tried to get up, his knees buckled and he ended up right back in his chair. It was hardly graceful, but Connor’s gaze swept the room and found that there were still no eyes on him.

Connor watched Hank talk to Fowler and could detect their hushed voices with his already sensitive hearing. He heightened his senses to make out what they were saying, hissing at the feel of the seam on his sock.

“I told you he wasn’t ready,” Fowler muttered, his bald head in his hands.

“Hell, I know that- he just seemed so excited to work again, I didn’t think it’d- y’know- shit,” Hank sighed, pacing the glass room and breaking a sweat. Connor didn’t like that he was worrying him so much and it only made the vines tighter. He wanted- no, he needed to leave, but he was frozen in place.

“What are you pacing for, Hank?” Fowler barked. “Get him the hell out of here.”

“Right- fuckin’ A,” Hank turned on his heels and left the office and Connor was grateful to return his senses to normal, entirely overstimulated by the excess input. 

Hank was headed right toward Connor, and despite his panicked expression, Connor felt soothed by his presence. 

“Let’s go, okay?” Hank said, his voice much more gentle than the one he’d been using with Fowler. Connor felt affection twinge in his chest.

“Yes,” Connor agreed, attempting to stand and failing again.

“Oh, Connor." Hank went to catch him before he fell, arms around his waist. Connor’s stress level lowered significantly, down to 63 percent. Hank moved his arms for the sake of being subtle at work, instead opting to keep an arm around Connor’s shoulder. Connor didn’t mind the change, his stress level remaining the same as Hank guided him out of the precinct.

Connor felt extremely embarrassed that his composed, calculated self had to practically be carried out of the police department, but he could hardly walk as it was and he knew Hank just wanted to help.

When they’d gotten in the car, Hank turned to Connor, looking slightly less panicked but still worried.

“What happened back there, Con?” Hank asked and Connor’s LED spun yellow for the first time since they’d arrived there. It wasn’t lost on Hank- of course, it wasn’t- and Connor could see a little bit of relief in his face.

“I… I don’t know,” Connor said, frustrated that he couldn’t wrap his head around it. “I just… felt like I was being watched, I couldn’t focus on work, and I felt- like I couldn’t breathe, which is irrational, since I lack the necessity to breathe in the first place, and-”

“Connor,” Hank cut him off, though it was entirely out of concern. “You had a panic attack, love.”

“Oh,” Connor said, his LED still processing. He didn’t need to look it up, he knew what a panic attack was. He just hadn’t considered that it could happen to him. Hank looked at him a moment longer, still appearing worried. He wordlessly started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, glancing at Connor before turning into the main road.

“You gonna be alright, honey?” Hank asked, running his free hand through his hair, one of the many nervous habits of Hank Anderson that Connor had noticed a long time ago.

“I… think so,” Connor checked his stress level, which was at 54 percent. “I just needed to get out of there.”

“I know,” Hank murmured comfortingly, placing the hand that wasn’t on the wheel over Connor’s on his thigh. Connor closed his eyes and focused on the comforting circles Hank was rubbing into the back of his hand, letting the synthskin peel away so he could focus on Hank’s touch more easily. He grimaced at how he could also feel the texture of his pants against his hand, and opted to only have his chassis show in the places Hank’s hand was touching. It solved the problem and Connor gave a quiet, relieved sigh. Hank turned to him, his eyes soft

“I know how shit those things can get,” Hank said. “I’m sorry you that it, uh, happened to you.”

Hank was awkward, but Connor could also tell he was being sincere, and it made him smile weakly.

“You doing better over there?” Hank asked when they were almost home. Connor gave a tired smile.

“Getting there,” He mumbled, his dull blue LED supporting his words. The car went peacefully silent as Hank took the last turn to their home.

Connor took out his coin from his pocket and fiddled with it, tossing it between his fingers with precision that used to annoy Hank. Now, Hank stole glances that he seemed to think Connor didn’t notice. Connor kept the coin in his palm, grateful to look and see that his stress level had gone down to 41 percent.

Hank pulled into the driveway and Connor took a deep breath. He didn’t need to breathe, obviously, but it was strangely soothing and further alleviated his stress level. Connor followed Hank out of the car and to the door, standing close behind him as he fumbled with the keys. Connor followed Hank in, unpleasantly aware of every step he took.

Sumo woofed and bounded over to greet them from the fireplace, tail swishing quickly. Connor reached down to scratch behind his ears, his lips upturned in a smile.

“Hey, boy,” Hank knelt down and pet Sumo for a moment before hanging his jacket and removing his shoes. Connor did the same. Sumo followed them to the couch and lay right in front of it on the rug. Hank took his usual spot on the left side and Connor on the right.

“Hank?” Connor said, scooting closer.

“Hm?”

“I feel… broken,” Connor admitted, leaning into Hank though his eyes were on Sumo. His head rested on his paws as he snoozed and Connor wanted to pet him, but didn’t want to move, so he did not.

“Oh, Connor, no- you aren’t broken, sweetheart,” Hank gently turned Connor’s head to face him. “You just feel things, it’s okay.” Hank took his hand and rubbed his thumb against Connor’s cheek gently. Connor met Hank’s eyes and there was something so warm in them it made Connor’s vision blurry. He blinked and realized his face was wet, and- oh. He was crying. “It’s okay,” Hank repeated, and Connor cried quietly for a minute before Hank’s calming voice relaxed him slightly. It was silent for a few moments and Connor smiled, wiping the tears from his own face and placing his hand over Hank’s. His synthetic skin receded on his hand.

“Thank you,” Connor breathed shakily. Hank wrapped his free arm around Connor and pulled him close, keeping him there.

“Of course, Connor,” Hank said, his own voice sounding full of emotion. Connor’s social module failed to label it. “I love you.”

Oh, right. It was love.

“I love you too, Hank.” Connor smiled broadly. Hank held him closer but then frowned. “What is it?”

“Nothin’, just…” Hank turned to face him, sitting with his legs crossed. Connor’s eyes went down to his thick, hairy thighs before he managed to get them back up. “You’re tense.”

“Am I?” Connor asked, and despite himself, he tensed even more. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Hank said patiently. “Look, lemme…” Hank trailed off, strong arms moving Connor to where his back was facing Hank. “Just relax, my love.”

Connor sighed when he felt Hank’s hands at his shoulder blades, his head falling back slightly. He didn’t consider a massage would work to ease some of the tension he didn’t notice he had. Hank always seemed to know what he needed.

“My grandfather was a masseur,” Hank said wistfully. “He taught me how to give fuckin’ good ass massages.”

Connor didn’t bother to voice his approval aside from a pleased hum. Hank’s hands were extremely skilled and Connor was putty in his hands. Hank pressed a gentle kiss to Connor’s neck and Connor made a mechanical trilling sound.

“Fuck was that?” Hank chuckled deeply, no judgment detectable in his words. Just fondness. Connor smiled, blue lighting up his cheeks, unbeknownst to Hank.

“I don’t know,” Connor said and shrugged, causing Hank’s fingers to brush against the port on the back of his neck. Connor groaned, then his eyes shot open and he scrambled away from Hank.

“Um?” Hank raised an eyebrow at him. “Struck a nerve?” 

Connor would normally roll his eyes fondly at the double meaning, but he was far too distracted with the buzzing heat in his neck. He didn’t know what that was, but he wanted- no, needed Hank to do it again.

Hank and Connor had yet to explore the sexual side of things; the closest they’d gone was makeout sessions getting heated. Connor wasn’t exactly equipped, and he could never quite figure out how to orgasm, though rubbing his pubic mound was physically stimulating. Connor still found it cruel that he was capable of arousal, but not capable of satiating it. Connor often heard Hank in the shower masturbating. It drove him mad. 

“Hank,” Connor said, his voice low. He made his way back over in that same position in front of Hank. “Do that again.”

“Oh?” Hank’s hands returned to Connor’s shoulder blades and brushed over his neck. Connor shivered. Connor turned just in time to catch the minute dilation of Hank’s pupils as they met each others’ eyes. The side of Connor’s mouth twitched. “That good?”

“Yes,” Connor answered, and there was a clicking sound afterward. Connor watched Hank’s reaction to the rather large port in the back of Connor’s neck, bare plastic exposed. Some of Connor’s most sensitive wiring was there, but he trusted Hank. Hank and his thick, wide fingers. Connor dared to look down and was rewarded, getting an eyeful of Hank’s erection and licking his lips.

“You want me to…?” Hank held out his hand and lazily gestured to the port that’d opened on the back of Connor’s neck. Connor suddenly got a flash of insecurity.

“If it isn’t too weird,” he said, looking away from Hank. Hank turned Connor toward him and pulled him close.

“It isn’t, I promise,” Hank rumbled, pulling Connor in by his neck for a kiss. Connor’s moan from the contact was muffled by Hank’s mouth and he could hardly focus on kissing Hank when he felt a large finger probe around and brush against a wire. He shuddered and his tongue went for Hank’s, needing more input. His tongue and fingers were both incredibly sensitive, and it was the reason why so many makeout sessions would get extremely heated. Connor pulled away, panting.

“This is okay, you’re sure?” Connor double-checked, barely keeping his composure with two of Hank’s fingers rummaging around in his wires.

“Yes,” Hank said exasperatedly. “Hell yes, Connor.”

That was all Connor needed and he craned his neck down, opting to kiss at Hank’s jaw and move down to his collarbone. It only gave Hank easier access to the port on the nape of Connor’s neck and Connor had another whole body shiver when he felt Hank tug at a wire lightly.

“Hank!” Connor cried when Hank pulled a little harder, hands scrabbling and settling on Hank’s shoulders. He couldn’t get a good grip on Hank’s shirt and he growled in frustration.

“Okay, okay,” Hank said, taking his fingers out of Connor’s port to remove his clothes. Connor involuntarily hissed at the loss. “Wait- we should probably, uh, take this to bed.” Connor followed Hank’s line of sight to Sumo and nodded his agreement. They both giddily stumbled to Hank’s bedroom, something they’d done countless times, but never in this context. Connor could smell Hank’s arousal and it only worsened his own.

“Clothes,” Connor reminded Hank, who’d almost pulled him into a kiss. Hank huffed and pulled off his shirt, averting his eyes. Connor failed to repress a moan at the sight and Hank seemed to get his confidence back from that. Connor shucked off his own shirt and his pants and boxers followed.

They stood there for at least a minute just looking at each other and despite Connor having nothing between his legs, Hank’s erection hadn’t flagged any- if anything, it’d reached full mast. Connor felt reassured by this and he didn’t hesitate any longer, done with looking and wanting to touch. Connor straddled Hank and kissed him deep, legs tightening around him when he felt Hank’s cock rub against his pubic mound. It was much different than anything Connor had ever tried, and if that wasn’t enough, Hank’s hand was back to exploring Connor’s neck port. Connor’s body jerked, not ready for the stimulation, but when Hank stopped with hesitation, Connor pulled back from their kiss.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he muttered, looking in Hank’s eyes. He watched Hank’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat when he swallowed. Connor, who never felt in control, was fucking thrilled at Hank’s reaction. “Fuck my thighs, Hank,”

“Jesus, the mouth on you,” Hank seemed startled by Connor’s indecency but Connor could tell by the way Hank’s cock throbbed that he enjoyed hearing Connor lose himself as much as Connor enjoyed it. Hank slowly moved his hips and Connor sucked in a sharp breath at the friction against his pelvic plate.

“Hank,” Connor whined, his voice box breaking.

“I know,” Hank grunted, speeding up with his thrusts and pulling harder on Connor’s wires. Connor poorly muffled a scream in his bare white hand. “I’ve got you, baby.”

“Hank, Hank, Hank,” Connor’s repetition was hardly discernible, but it didn’t matter, Hank knew what he needed. Hank tugged on three wires at the same time he thrust hard and Connor didn’t bother to muffle the scream he let out at that, his LED flickering red dangerously fast as he jerked and shook on Hank’s lap. Hank gave another few thrusts and came with a choked sound, painting Connor’s thighs with white, sticky semen. Connor’s forehead crashed against Hank’s shoulder and they both heaved for breath.

“Fuck,” Hank panted.

“Fuck,” Connor repeated, his voice malfunctioning. He must have damaged his voice box.

“Huh,” Hank chuckled. “Guess you really are broken now, eh?”

“Hank!” Connor feigned offense, but burst into distorted laughter afterward. Hank held him close and they basked in the afterglow together.

Connor realized then that if that’s what made him ‘broken’, he was more than content.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos help a ton. thank you for reading ♡


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